Friday, June 25, 2010

Okay, so after hearing the name McChrystal over and over again on NPR I have this to say. The problem with actually listening to the news for an hour is the news assumes u will listen for 5 minutes and then turn right back to Jack 93.1 to hear "Feels like the First Time" by Foreigner for the 150,000th time (which is my usual course of action). Thus I had to hear the announcement that McChrystal was "let go" 20 times, and then each time I had to hear it presented like it was the first time they said it. I already have to pretend my mother isn't retelling me the same stories on the phone, so my patience in the repetition department is limited.

My overarching thought on this matter is that McChrystal's name is just so wrong. He should have changed it. Here is a man who could take down those three people who blew the buses down the street in Superman 2 and who skips breakfast and lunch WITHOUT having a slim fast, course I had a friend who did that and called it crash dieting...but anyway the point is he's disciplined and tougher than I or most anyone I know will ever be. But this name is just unpleasant on the ears.

Now when McChrystal was growing up, this name was probably fine. However, then the 80s happened and everyone went so Crystal, (Krystle, Krystal) crazy (krazy, crazeee.)

There was _The Dark Crystal_, Krystal Jennings Carrington (not to be confused with William Jennings Bryant [no relation]) and Crystal light.

The name implies shiny chandeliers, written-for-profit mystical children's entertainment, wine glasses and trampy blondes. This is no name for a General. I mean even Judy Benjamin had an army ready last name. What is even worse is the Mc infront of it. It sounds like a McDonald's menu item. Which now they can't use it as a food item name thanks to this silly crisis.

Why did this man go to _Rolling Stone_? You don't see Beyonce on CSpan. The sad truth is he was bound for flaky behavior, after all his name is simply the Scottish derivative of anything luminescent and light....

Friday, June 11, 2010

There are moments when I get so tired of this actor/singer/rapper/wannabe filled town.

These moments happen very often at my health club, where wannabes abound.

People are always ready to network. Sometimes it is just talk. The conversations are always brimming with enthusiasm from the person talking for the person talking, and are articulated with a "down to earth/real" tone and tons of "gangbanger" slang. Gangbanger values have helped so many lives- just ask all the wise old gangbangers living rich, full lives (the ones who weren't shot by age 20-something or aren't stuck CA's overcrowded prisons). Why not reference gangster values in any conversation about success? But then other times, when simply words will not suffice, a song will say what a simple conversation cannot.

Here are some examples of moments (or shall I say windows into the soul) of my fellow exercisers.

A few months ago, there was adult club DJ inside the toilet stall on his phone discussing (loudly) the following songs and how they increased the artistic value of the presented dances.

"So I playing 'BabyMama' [ a song by Fantasia, I think] and it's just solid dude. And then there's 'Ass and Titties' okay, dat is a strip club classic, I mean it's a straight up hit off the charts"

[ I could not determine from my internet search just who originally recorded 'Ass and Titties' apparently it must be like one of those Carole King songs that have been covered so many times one forgets the original artist]

Just the other day I was showering after my swim (thank god everyone gets a private shower)

and a group of men were talking about their singing/rapping/soul legend prospects. This particular conversation had a very musical feeling, and by that I mean they broke into song. The sweet soulful crooning was richly delivered and heartfelt, they crafted an impromptu medley: "I won't pay for pussy [pronounced phussaay] cuz I get pussy for freeeeeee/I got my 40 and my blunt, doin' it gangster style" which was sung in a round. Hopefully these men will get their chance to add to the musical canon, perhaps their songs will be played along with 'Ass and Titties' during a dance performance, then exuberantly discussed in the modern urban salon that is also known as a toilet stall.

Although clearly the locker room is a nexus of artistic expression, impromptu performances can be heard everywhere. on the stretching mats, at the machines. Each heartfelt performance fills me with awkward embarrassment for the person next to me, crooning along with great effort to "La La" by Ashlee Simpson. I wonder if any of these people do get discovered by a casting director or producer, so they have reason to continue their flights into song. If so please let me know what casting director or producer, so I can call their union and grieve them.